


weather through the world with me, my love

by fthh



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fthh/pseuds/fthh
Summary: small drabbles revolving around mercigrid modern au
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	1. how they met

**Author's Note:**

> writing about two women happy and in love as an act of self-indulgence baybeeee
> 
> (teen rating for some swearing. for now.)
> 
> same universe as [little discoveries](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24442282).
> 
> [x](https://twitter.com/clonebutt)

The only thing Dorothea can process is the blood rushing in her ears as she goes where her feet take her, looking for the bed Ingrid is currently occupying. She nervously pulls back the curtains at the end of the ward, but some of her anxiety is alleviated by her best friend’s dreamy giggle from the other side. Dorothea lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

“Yes, I’ll finish it, Mercedes.”

Dorothea stops in her tracks, only blinking. Ingrid is all smiles and laughter, and…  _ huh _ . She doesn’t look like someone who just got into a traffic accident so bad her car had to be condemned. And also - Dorothea had no idea Ingrid could be this open and cheerful around strangers.

“Ingrid,” she says, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Good morning,” the nurse, Mercedes, greets. “Are you her partner?”

“No!” Ingrid pipes up, panicked. “Dot here is my best friend. And— and she has a girlfriend already. She’s not the type to—” Dorothea gingerly puts a hand over Ingrid’s mouth before she can dig her own grave.

“We are best friends,” Dorothea clarifies after her. “I’m her emergency contact — I came here as soon as I could. Is she going to be okay?”

“She will be. She only sustained a few bruises under her ribcage and a few cuts; nothing too serious, fortunately. She will most probably be discharged tomorrow,” Mercedes explains, arranging Ingrid’s meal on her table. “I’ll be back later with your medicine. Finish your rice, Ingrid.”

“I will,” the woman in question easily agrees, eyes glazed over but Dorothea can see that she’s trying her best to focus on Mercedes’ retreating figure. As soon as the nurse is on the other side of the curtain, Ingrid tugs on Dorothea’s sleeve eagerly, and the smile on her face is smug. “Dude, she’s so hot.”

Her voice isn’t loud, but it isn’t quiet either. Dorothea laughs. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“She’s been, like, so nice to me. Hey, Dot, they had to cut my clothes off, did you know that?” Dorothea eyes the pile on the chair beside the bed. She nods. “Do you think…? Oh, goddess, dude, I haven’t shaved! Like, at all!”

Dorothea pulls up a chair closer to the bed, and hands her best friend the utensils Mercedes had left earlier. “They’re professionals. They won’t care.”

“Yeah, but! Mercie is so cute!”

_ Mercie. _ Dorothea bites down on her lip. When Ingrid comes down from this painkiller high she’s going to have a field day making fun of her best friend.

“Mercie?”

“Yeah, she told me to call her Mercie. Dude, she’s so nice.”

“I bet she is.”

.

Ingrid is safely at her home in 48 hours.

“Goddess, Dot, tell me I didn’t embarrass myself in front of the pretty nurse,” Ingrid groans, trying to sit up in bed next to Dorothea. She groans, again, the movement agitating the bruise right under her ribcage. She lies back down, letting out an annoyed huff.

Dorothea snorts at her. Of course the first thing she’d ask about after waking up is the pretty nurse. What else would it be? She knows Ingrid like the back of her hand, now.

“ _ ‘Oh, Mercie, I hope I get to see you again after this is over,’ _ ” Dorothea says mockingly. “ _ ‘I’d like to take you for a ride. On my horse.’  _ Except you took like a minute to tack that on. It was hilarious, if I’m being honest.”

“Dude…”

“Yeah.”

Ingrid says nothing, just sinks further into bed and brings the duvet over her head.

“Dude?” Ingrid questions.

“Yup. And you apologised about not shaving, by the way.”

Ingrid flips the duvet so fast she hisses at the sharp pain against her torso. “No way!”

“Yes way,” Dorothea smiles apologetically. She reaches over to the nightstand for her purse, and takes out a small piece of paper, handing it to Ingrid, who accepts it gingerly. “You  _ must _ have done something right, though.”

Ingrid takes a look at the paper. In neat handwriting: a phone number, and a neatly written  _ Mercedes _ underneath it.

“Dude!”

“Yeah,” Dorothea agrees easily, laughing affectionately at her best friend. “Congrats on not fucking it up.”


	2. how it began

Mercedes reaches across the table. “Is that a new phone?”

“Yes, uh—” Ingrid tries to answer, but she’s dumbfounded, if anything. She does  _ not _ know what to say. What  _ would _ one say in this situation?

So she just watches her crush. (The word is so childish but there’s really no other way to describe her because they aren’t strangers or acquaintances, and calling Mercedes her friend would be to discount the hungry and lingering looks between them.

Yes, Ingrid has put a lot of thought into this, thank you very much. It’s the only work her last remaining brain cell did before peacing out.)

She observes, then, Mercedes typing something on her keypad before putting the phone back face-down in front of her. The conversation continues as if Mercedes hasn’t just had Ingrid’s entire life in the mercy of her hands (she’s pretty proud of that pun — maybe she’ll tell it again when she relates this story to Dorothea later).

Ingrid remembers belatedly the shitty poetry on her notes. She wonders if Mercedes saw any number of her melodramatic journal entries? Surely she would have said something, right?

But the very fact that Mercedes is spending time with her is a balm on her soul, so she tucks away these concerns for later.

After Mercedes leaves for her shift Ingrid finally looks at her phone. Past her lockscreen is Mercedes’ contact page. It’s had a slight change, and there, in bold under a picture of Mercedes:

Mercie💓

Ingrid gapes.

There’s a message, then:

**Mercie💓: How about dinner on Friday?**

**Mercie💓: I am asking you out on a date, by the way.**

**Mercie💓: 💓💓💓**

Ingrid has never said ‘yes’ so fast in her life.


	3. a modest proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [@yoctogram_](https://twitter.com/yoctogram_) said "ingrid and mercie proposing to each other" and now, a few days later, here we are

Ingrid’s anniversary plan is going well. So far so good. She’d woken up her girlfriend this morning with an orgasm that led to multiple orgasms in a row, and when Ingrid picked her girlfriend up from work at the end of the day she still had a smug grin plastered over her features.

(“Hey, Mercie,” Ingrid said, last night, as she went under the covers on her side of the bed. “It’s our fourth anniversary tomorrow.”

“It is,” Mercedes agreed through a small yawn.

“Will it be okay if I… you know,” Ingrid trailed off, waggling her eyebrows. She then very pointedly glanced at her girlfriend’s lower half. “Woke you up with a surprise.”

Mercedes’s knowing smile had mirrored her own. “Oh?” She asked coyly. “What kind of surprise?”

Ingrid leaned over to press a painfully chaste kiss on the corner of Mercedes’ lips. “One that involves us staying in bed for at least an hour.”

“Then you’ll have to wake me up early tomorrow, dear. I’d hate to explain to Manuela exactly why I’m late for work.”)

“Happy anniversary, love.” Ingrid accepts the kiss from Mercedes as she moves to get out of the car. “We’re still on for tonight, right?”

Mercedes honest-to-goodness giggles, then. Giddy. That’s good — Ingrid is glad to have been the one to make Mercedes happy, and especially today. “Yes, sweetie, I can’t wait to see what you have planned for us tonight.” She shuts the car door and blows a kiss to her girlfriend.

“Love you!” Ingrid calls out before driving away.

She spends the day smiling. It doesn’t even falter when one of her sky polo teammates whacks the ball a little too close to her lips (she’s mostly upset because how is Mercedes going to kiss her if she has swollen lips?). It doesn’t even dampen her spirit when her pegasus shits on her boots.

Tonight is going to be special. She is sure of it. In fact, she is going to  _ make _ it special. It has to be. She’s been planning this for a month now.

“Ooh, you’re pulling out your fancy jacket?” Mercedes says teasingly, but she is pulling Ingrid by the lapels to kiss her. What else can Ingrid do but melt? Especially when Mercedes is biting down with just enough force on her lower lip? “You look very handsome in this.” Mercedes  _ purrs. _

Ingrid can feel her resolve melting as her girlfriend rides a leg up her thigh — but she has plans.

“We have plans,” Ingrid says simply, but chases her girlfriend for another kiss. They have plans. She has plans. Plans that have been a month in the making, she reminds herself as she steps away from her Mercedes’ embrace.

“Alright,” Mercedes relents, smiling. She fixes Ingrid’s collar, runs a hand over the lapels to smooth out the fabric. Teasing. Of course. “When we get home?”

“When we get home.”

.

In the four years of their relationship, Ingrid has never been irritable.  _ This asshole’s headlights are blinding the goddes herself,  _ she mumbles.

(She has had this ring burning a hole in her pocket for the better part of a month now. It  _ has _ to be perfect. They have to get to this restaurant but some fucker is going to get them in an accident, so yeah. She’s a little snippy.)

Mercedes puts a gentle hand on her girlfriend’s thigh.

“I’m driving under the speed limit, don’t worry,” Ingrid assures her, but glances at the speedometer anyway. It never hurts to double-check.

“Yes, I can see that,” Mercedes agrees. “But I can also see you have a death grip on the steering wheel, honey.”

Ingrid relaxes her hands a little, takes a deep breath. Inhale, exhale. She puts a hand over Mercedes’ and squeezes. “Thank you.” She brings the hand up to press a kiss on Mercedes’ knuckles.

The drive is silent for five minutes before Mercedes breaks it. “Take the next left,” she says simply.

“Babe, why are we going to the park?” She questions, but nevertheless turns on her blinkers. “We have to get to the restaurant.”

“We have plenty of time before our reservation, sweetheart, let’s go for a little walk.”

Ingrid glances down at herself and her girlfriend. She laughs — they are definitely not dressed for a stroll in the park, but she needs this, she thinks.

.

There are only three or four other people in the park, Ingrid observes as she walks hand-in-hand with Mercedes.

It is almost half past seven — most people would be in the comfort of their own homes, or at the very least indoors.

“The stars are bright tonight,” Ingrid remarks, following Mercedes’ lead, sitting down at the gazebo at the centre of the park.

Around them is silent except for the faint sounds of crickets and cicadas amongst the greenery.

“Hey, so,” Mercedes’ tone is sombre and serious now, and there’s an uptick in Ingrid’s heart rate. Mercedes must have noticed the brief moment of panic that passes over Ingrid’s features because she immediately grabs hold of both her girlfriend’s hands.

Mercedes scoots a little, but in the end, she just kneels on both her knees on the floor.

“Hey, you’re going to get your dress dirty.” Ingrid tugs on her hand, but she simply shakes her head.

“This is important.”

Ingrid narrows her eyes. The ways Mercedes is kneeling, reaching into her coat pocket… Is she…?

“I love you so much,” Mercedes says, “and I want to spend the rest of our lives together. And I want the whole world to know.” She pulls out a small velvet box and opens it, revealing a small silver band sitting snugly inside. “Marry me?”

Ingrid gapes at the sight before her: there she is, the love of her life, dirtying her favourite dress. The love of her life, whom she met a little more than four years ago, is holding out a ring and asking her…

To grow old together.

“Mercie,” she whispers, cupping Mercedes’ cheeks and kissing her on the lips. “I love you, but—” She hurriedly corrects herself. “This is a good but, I swear.” Ingrid reaches into her own jacket pocket to pull out a velvet box. “I was going to ask you to marry me at the restaurant,” she clarifies, laughing. They’re both crying, now.

Ingrid brushes her thumbs over Mercedes’ cheeks, wiping away her tears. She pulls her girlfriend (fiancée? Her brain notes excitedly) and kisses her on the lips, on her nose, on her forehead.

“The answer is yes, by the way,” Ingrid says. (Her heart is eagerly dancing in her ribcage.  _ Fiancée! Fiancée! Fiancée! _ It screams.  _ Soon-to-be wife! _ )

Mercedes leans forward, wraps her arms around her fiancée’s neck, and kisses her soundly, a kiss that says  _ I love you, I can’t wait to spend my whole life with you. _

But Ingrid needs words, sometimes, so she says it: “I love you,” fondly, and kisses her again, again, again, again. “I can’t wait to spend my whole life with you. I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I love you too.” Ingrid’s hands move to hold her fiancée by the waist. Their velvet boxes have been knocked to the side to hold each other. Ingrid can’t find it in her to care. They can put on their rings later. For now, all she wants to do is kiss kiss kiss— “I’m still proposing to you at the restaurant, just so you know. For the free dessert.”

Mercedes only laughs, and kisses her.


	4. you and me (and the silence around us)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they have the house to themselves now.
> 
> (warning for nsfw)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some plotless... fluff. yeah let's call it fluff :)

There’s a softness to Ingrid’s touches, now. There always was, and it was intentional then, but now, it seems that they’ve both grown unhurried with age.

(Not to say that their movements can’t be frantic and feverish and hasty, but lately that’s a little more taxing and they like to just enjoy touching each other at a more leisurely pace.)

There was a time, thirty years or so ago, when their apartment door opened with a loud bang that earned them the ire of their neighbours, when Mercedes would shove and pin her wife to the wall, kissing the side of Ingrid’s neck and grinding against her, the friction setting a flame, deep, low in her stomach.

Much has changed since then: they live in their own house and haven’t worried about disturbing their neighbours for  _ years.  _ Nowadays Ingrid would much prefer a gentle press to the frenzied shoving in their younger years. Like before, however, Ingrid is set ablaze by the simple act of a kiss to the neck followed by naughty hands making their way under her clothes.

.

There is also the easy way that they fall into a deep sort of silence now. It isn’t unwelcome, and it’s not that they don’t have anything to say to each other, it’s just— they know they have the rest of their lives together, so Ingrid knows, Mercedes knows, that they have  _ time. _

Time, still, to get to know, to discover more of themselves, of each other.

.

“That’s the last of them,” Mercedes sighs, closing the door. Ingrid can’t tell if her tone is of relief or of melancholy. Either way, she reaches for her wife’s hand and leads her further inside to sit on the couch.

“It is,” she easily agrees, leaning on Mercedes’ shoulder. “Are you sad?”

“No.”

Ingrid doesn’t respond, doesn’t move except for her tracing her fingers over Mercedes’ knuckles.

“Alright, maybe a little,” Mercedes relents. “I… yeah. I don’t know. They’re still going to visit us from time to time, but that’s going to be different, you know?”

“Yeah. I’m going to miss them.”

“At least we have the house to ourselves now,” Mercedes points out, at which Ingrid turns to her and waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Help me, sweetheart?”

Mercedes shifts to turn her back on Ingrid, who reaches up her blouse to unhook her bra. She easily slides the straps through her arms and takes the whole bra off through her collar.

Ingrid visibly gulps at the sight of her wife’s nipples poking through the thin fabric of her blouse. She’s suddenly quite interested in the material— what is it exactly? Chiffon? Organza?

Who cares, really, when it’s going to end up on the floor anyway?

“Not right now, my love.” Mercedes pushes a gentle hand against Ingrid’s chest, seemingly reading her thoughts. She backs away obediently. “We haven’t eaten all day. Come, let’s find something to eat.”

.

The noise in the house had been steadily declining for years. One by one, their kids had grown up and learned to regulate their rowdiness, although of course, sometimes they couldn’t help it— watching a sky polo match, or a horror film, or simply spotting an insect by the door.

And then one by one they’d moved out until, once again, it’s just them.

It took them two weeks, at least, to get used to the absence of their youngest. No more small good mornings and good nights from a deep voice. No more of their youngest coming up to them with questions. No more of their youngest staying up way past acceptable hours studying and Mercedes or Ingrid gently admonishing them and telling them to go to sleep.

The silence was thunderous, at first, an absence that highlighted how much their lives had changed.

Mercedes is still here, though, Ingrid notes with a silly grin. She’s flipping through a cookbook, her free arm slung across Ingrid’s shoulders. Ingrid is resting snugly against the crook of her wife’s neck, and her eyes are on the television, but her attention is somewhere else.

It’s hard to focus on anything else, of course, when her wife’s hand is resting lazily against her breast.

“Mercie,” she warns, but tilts her head upwards to press kisses onto Mercedes’ neck. Her skin is soft and pliant, and she’s warm where she’s blushing. Ingrid smiles into another kiss, revelling in the fact that she still has this effect on her wife even after so many years together.

“Yes?”

Ingrid chuckles. She moves her free hand to slide up Mercedes’ blouse to feel the skin of her stomach, and moves farther and farther upwards, until…

She discovers her wife isn’t wearing a bra.

Mercedes pushes her thick tome of a cookbook to the side, and grins at her, wicked, trouble. (And really, truly, at this age they’re too old for trouble, but Ingrid thinks, as she has thought all this time, she’d risk it all for her wife.)

They don’t do much reading or watching television, only kissing and enjoying each other’s company in the middle of their living room.

.

Mercedes is brushing her hair free of tangles, watching her own movements in the mirror. She tilts her head to the side, searching. There’s a look of resignment on her face, then. She sighs.

“Would you look at that,” she says to no one in particular, “my wrinkles are getting deeper. My body’s really changing, huh?”

Ingrid looks up from her book. She’s already under the covers on her side of the bed, doing a little light reading to get herself drowsy enough for sleep.

“First the grey hairs, now the wrinkles.” Mercedes twirls a lock of her golden tresses around her finger.

Ingrid walks up to the vanity, making eye contact with her wife through the mirror. When she reaches Mercedes, she starts to softly massage her shoulders. “Personally I think you look hot, in a MILF kind of way.”

“Goodness,” Mercedes replies with a giggle. “Have you been hanging out with Sylvain again? My heart, you don’t need to charm me to get into my pants anymore.”

Mercedes turns her head to the side, her hairbrush all but forgotten on the vanity. She kisses Ingrid lightly on the wrist before taking her hand and leading her to the bed.

  
  
  


“I mean it, you know,” Ingrid says, hours later, both of them snug under the covers. “The grey hairs and the wrinkles, I love it. It’s just… more of your details appearing as the years go by. I love you, Mercie.”

“I love you too, Ingrid, wrinkles and all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this is absolutely what came out of me posting some horny stuff on my twitter.
> 
> word count: 1098 (once again, i would like to call this trick "horny frenzied writing".)
> 
> [x](https://twitter.com/clonebutt)


	5. lazy lazy morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when they wake up, the sun is already on its merry way bathing the land with its warmth. there's nothing much they want to do today, and being wrapped in each other's arms is nice, too.
> 
> (this chapter rated m for explicit sexual content)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place before ch 4
> 
> updated 14/08/2020 at 00:45
> 
> word count: 717

Ingrid cracks one eye open with a groan. It’d been a late night last night — they’d announced to their friends the happy news over dinner — and by the time they were in bed again, in each other’s arms again, it had been midnight and neither of them really had the mind to properly pull their curtains closed.

So here she is now, hiding her face in Mercedes’s hair, trying to postpone as much as possible the start of the day.

But sleep has abandoned her, it seems. The tighter she closes her eyes, the farther away slumber runs away from her, so she relents, and lies on her back, eyes still watching her wife, peacefully sleeping next to her, facing away.

She takes a drink of water from the night-stand and slots herself along Mercedes’ body, one hand sneaking up her sleep-shirt and drawing light, lazy circles over her stomach. A minuscule, almost imperceptible contraction of the muscles there tells Ingrid Mercedes is awake and aware of her ministrations.

“Hey,” Mercedes says, voice groggy from sleep, “good morning.” She haphazardly lays a hand over Ingrid’s on her stomach, guiding her down, down,  _ down… _

“Are you sure?” Ingrid asks, leaning upon her elbow to get a better view of her wife’s face.

“I need you,” Mercedes whimpers, no more trace of sleep, “now.”

“Okay,” Ingrid gladly relents, smiling, smiling, smiling, kissing her wife’s cheek. “Do you want me to—”

“No, you, fingers, me, now.” Her hands are more urgent, more insistent, and Ingrid is more than happy to oblige her wife.

This has been a relatively recent development: Mercedes’ libido has been off the charts ever since they found out, and she’s excited, she really is, but at times like this Mercedes wants to be pleasured,  _ quick. _

Ingrid reaches into Mercedes’ panties, past her blonde curls, and her fingers find themselves  _ wet  _ as Ingrid strokes along her wife’s labia, and she’s met with another broken whimper. “Inside?” She asks to clarify.

Mercedes shakes her head frantically. “No, just, touch.” She leans back, pressing into Ingrid’s front as much as she can manage. Ingrid feels a shiver travelling up her wife’s spine as she makes her way up to Mercedes’ clit and gives it an initial stroke.

Spurred on by a long, drawn-out moan from her wife, Ingrid uses her fingers to stroke circles on the sensitive bud, increasing pressure as Mercedes begs  _ more, more, more, please. _

It’s with experience and practice that Ingrid sneaks her free hand to palm one of Mercedes’ breasts and tweak a nipple while the other continues rubbing at her clit. Ingrid can feel her hand becoming wetter and can hear Mercedes’ voice becoming more and more desperate, and—

“Come on, sweetheart, come for me, you're so close,” Ingrid coos. She bites down lightly on her wife's shoulder, and it's the last thing that tips her over the edge — she climaxes calling out Ingrid's name.

Satiated, for now, she turns to face her wife, finally, and greets her with some kisses, easy, passionate, a greeting, a simple  _ hello,  _ a  _ thank-you. _

“Good morning,” she says as they part. “That was very nice, I'll return the favour after—”

“Hey, it’s okay. Today can be all about you.”

Another kiss.

“I knew being pregnant would increase my libido,” Mercedes says, and it’s obvious from her laboured breathing that she’s still trying to calm her burning lungs. Her skin is still flushed, and the hiked-up shirt reveals a slight bump. “I didn’t think it would be  _ this _ bad.”

“I'm happy to please you, you know, you don't need to apologise for having a heightened sex drive.”

“My knight.” Mercedes kisses her. It’s not much different from the rest, but Mercedes ends up with Ingrid’s bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it with a  _ pop.  _ This time it’s Ingrid’s turn to have a shiver run down her spine. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” Ingrid says simply, because it is the simplest truth to her existence. She swings her legs down the side of the bed, hand reaching out for Mercedes’. “Come on, let’s shower, breakfast, and then I still have plans for you.”

“I love you too.”

Mercedes grabs her wife’s hand. They don’t part much for the day. They won’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well lads... i tried to write horny content
> 
> [x](https://twitter.com/merciehonkers)


	6. this dear life of mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes trembles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was listening to "flowers" by eva noblezada from the hadestown musical soundtrack when inspiration struck. go give the album a listen and be in pain with me :)
> 
> updated 20/08/2020 at 2:45 AM
> 
> word count: 634

1.

She’s dropping Ingrid off after their first date—

They’d had a lot of fun, naturally. Mercedes thought they would, and they did. It was a simple affair, movie and dinner, nothing too out of the ordinary.

(She’s trembling as she says goodbye.)

“I had fun,” Mercedes says, backing Ingrid into a wall, but keeping enough distance so that Ingrid can easily get out of the situation if she wants to. “I hope we can do this again.”

Ingrid tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and Mercedes gets a whiff of her musky perfume.  _ Hot. _ Ingrid seems to think something over and a look of resolve passes over her features, then, and it all happens in a blur:

Ingrid steps into her personal space and grabs at Mercedes’ shawl, but it’s Mercedes who takes the final step, leaning down a little to give her a light brush of their lips — feeling the sparks between them — and then kissing her fully.

There is a shudder running through her bones when she pulls away.

They set up another date before Mercedes leaves, breathless in anticipation, but managing to keep her composure, at least. She watches Ingrid trip over nothing as she enters her apartment building, and she waves at Ingrid with a small laugh before walking away.

2.

The first time they fall into bed with each other had been an exciting affair. She’s vibrating in anticipation when Ingrid whispers an enthusiastic  _ yes _ when she’d asked if Ingrid would like to come up after their fifth date.

Mercedes is visibly shaking as Ingrid pulls away from her throbbing cunt. It’d been bad when Ingrid was undressing her, but it’s  _ bad _ now.

With quivering hands, Mercedes guides her upwards for a tired, careless kiss. Ingrid brushes her lips over Mercedes’ soft stomach, her breasts, her collarbone, her neck, slowly making her way up to her lips.

Mercedes can taste herself on Ingrid’s tongue. She lets her hands wander over the taut muscles on Ingrid’s body, lets herself enjoy the feeling of Ingrid’s hands on hers.

She feels Ingrid’s hand pressing into her stomach, tracing over her stretch marks there, her supple skin soft and pliant under the slightest pressure of Ingrid’s fingers.

3.

Two words.

Two simple words, a simple phrase, a confirmation of their love for each other, and she’ll be someone’s wife.

Technically not until they sign their marriage certificate, but. It’s the theatrics of it all, she thinks.

Mercedes is decidedly  _ not _ listening to Ingrid’s vows, heartbeat thundering in her ears. She’s about to be someone’s  _ wife. _ She remembers a time, years before, disdainfully concluding that marriage isn’t for her.

And now, here she is, telling Ingrid she wants to grow old with her knight.

And then:

A shaky, eager exchange of “I do”s. Ingrid leaning a bit on her tip-toes to kiss her, finally, and they’re  _ wives. _

4.

“My love,” Mercedes whispers into the dead of the night, through gritted teeth. Her contractions have started to become increasingly frequent. She puts a hand over her stomach in a vain attempt to soothe the pain, but alas. “My love, can you help me up?”

Ingrid snaps to attention, gets out of bed to walk to Mercedes’ side. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I need to pee.”

.

“Love?” Comes Mercedes’ voice through the bathroom door.

“Yes?”

“I think my water just broke.”

.

Mercedes trembles as the nurse deposits the baby into her arms, advising her to have as much skin-to-skin contact with the baby to bond.

“I—” Mercedes chokes up as Ingrid places a soothing hand over her shoulder. “Ingrid, our baby is here.”

“She is.”

“Ingrid, she’s so beautiful.”

“She is.” Ingrid presses a kiss into her hair.

“Ingrid, I love her so much.”

“I do too, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thanks to [rocky](https://twitter.com/sadsambharsobs) and [yocto](https://twitter.com/yoctogram_) for making me think about mercie all day :))))


End file.
